


The Young Renegade

by atl_anon



Category: All Time Low (Band)
Genre: Album: Last Young Renegade, Band Fic, Light Angst, Multi, Slice of Life, Time Travel, alternate title: awg makes bad decisions while we all watch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:41:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28262559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atl_anon/pseuds/atl_anon
Summary: The story of the Young Renegade - our window into Last Young Renegade. This is a song-by-song exploration of the album and a vision of moments that could have inspired them. And maybe, it's a story about how the LYR universe came to be.
Kudos: 6





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> I am intrigued by the concept behind LYR and have seen so much potential for storytelling in it since the first time I listened that I decided to write a story around it. I've done my best to approach this story in a respectful way throughout and by the end I hope you will agree that I've succeeded. 
> 
> Chapters will be presented in what I've decided is chronological order rather than the order they appear on the album and I have included the two b-sides since I feel as though they're an important part of the story. All interpretations are my own and likely differ from other people's.

“It was really nice seeing you again, Alex,” the blonde woman says with a smile. “I wasn’t sure what to expect.”

“Oh?” Alex tries to keep the question nonchalant, his own smile mirroring hers.

“Yeah,” the woman answers. She laughs and picks up her almost empty glass of wine and takes the last drink. Before Alex can ask her to elaborate, she shrugs with one shoulder and adds, “You used to be kind of an asshole, you know.”

“Oh.” Alex chuckles, his cheeks suddenly feeling warm as he glances down at the table then back up to meet her half-teasing gaze. “Yeah, I guess I was, huh?”

********** 

Three hours later, Alex is still replaying the end of their conversation in his head. Her honesty was unexpected and he knows he shouldn’t be bothered by the opinion of someone who was a friend’s friend ten years ago and is even less than that to him now, but he is. It bothers him a lot more than he’d ever admit that someone who is basically a stranger thought he was an asshole a decade ago. Mostly because it makes him wonder how many other people in his life have thought the same thing. How many people has he known, _does_ he know, who still have that version of him in their heads?

He busies himself working on a recalcitrant melody as a distraction, but he keeps coming back to the same thought. As the night wears on, his thoughts start to wander. Maybe it’s more than just some random almost-strangers thinking he was a jerk. What if the people who have known him best have seen him - and their relationship with him - completely differently from the way he remembers it? The thought is so deeply uncomfortable it puts a knot in his stomach and makes his chest feel tight. Now that it has occurred to him, he _needs_ to know. That’s not exactly the kind of thing you can call up an ex or a friend you haven’t spoken with in half a decade and ask though, now is it?

“Hey, I know it’s been years since we talked, but I was wondering if you actually liked me when we were together?”

“Hey, long time no talk, just wanted to ask: were we ever really friends or did you just tolerate me?”

He laughs to himself and rubs his eyes. Yeah, definitely not the kind of thing you can just call and ask someone. Especially not at two in the morning. He picks up his pen and starts to doodle at the edge of the page he’s been writing random snippets of potential lyrics on for the last hour and a half, trying to clear his mind so that maybe he can get some sleep tonight. Lost in thought, he watches the drawing start to take shape at the tip of his pen: a fly.

When it’s finished he stares at it, thinking wistfully that it’s too bad he can’t be a fly on the wall of his own life. He’d probably learn some interesting things if he could. He sighs to himself and drops the pen back onto the table then rubs his eyes again, finally tired enough to sleep. The thought crosses his mind as he’s getting ready for bed that maybe he wouldn’t _want_ to know the things he’d learn if he had a fly-on-the-wall perspective. What if he really _was_ that bad?

The same discomfort from earlier tightens in his chest again as he settles into bed and he falls asleep thinking about how many versions of himself exist in the world and, more importantly, in the minds of those he’s been closest to.


	2. Chemistry (2006)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is Chemistry about? Maybe this. (But maybe not.)

It’s weird to wake up with no memory of having fallen asleep and even weirder to wake up standing in a house you don’t recognize. Or maybe he didn’t wake up at all, maybe he’s always been here. The young renegade hears voices coming from the next room but can’t quite make out what they’re saying. He looks down at his clothes and doesn’t remember putting them on. A jacket over a flannel and a shirt with ripped jeans. They feel familiar, though. Everything feels familiar, the voices sound familiar, but he knows he’s never been here before. He couldn’t have been.

He catches sight of himself in the mirror, of his shaggy undercut and the piercing eyes looking back at him from over a blue bandana turned mask. His attention is pulled from the mirror by the sound of one of the voices being raised in anger. It’s young and male and beneath the anger, he can hear a desperate kind of fear. 

He moves to the doorway quietly, carefully, and looks into the room. It’s a nice room with tasteful furniture, middle class in every way. In the middle of the room are two chairs turned to half face one another. One of the chairs is occupied by a woman in her late twenties or early thirties. She’s pretty, though at the moment her brow is pulled with worry as she looks at the occupant of the other chair. The young renegade’s eyes follow the woman’s gaze and in the chair opposite her, he sees.. _himself_. 

No, that can’t be right. If he’s standing here the boy in the chair can’t possibly be him, right? He takes half a step back and closes his eyes for a second, but when he reopens them he’s still just as sure that the tall, skinny boy in his late teens is _him_. It has to be. The woman looks toward the doorway but doesn’t seem to notice him standing there at all. 

She looks right through him but something about her eyes brings a sudden, overwhelming rush of emotion. Everything comes flooding back to him: this room, this conversation, this moment. It isn’t just familiar, he _has_ been here. Only the last time he was here he was sitting in the chair with his fists clenched in his lap and his face burning with anger and embarrassment. 

The knowledge makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up and he holds his breath as he watches the scene play out in front of him, hoping maybe the outcome will be different this time. The woman sighs and reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ear but the boy in the chair doesn’t look up. When she speaks, her voice is gentle but weary.

“I’m sorry. You’re a wonderful young man with a bright future. I never meant for things to get this far and I.. just can’t keep doing this.”

The boy stares at the floor between his feet, his jaw clenched and the bridge of his nose burning with unshed tears. He doesn’t move when he hears the rustling of the woman getting to her feet and pulling the strap of her handbag over her shoulder. When she reaches out to touch his shoulder, he flinches away. 

The young renegade can see the hurt in her eyes, see how close she is to tears, how her fingers shake as she pulls them away from the boy stubbornly refusing to look up at her as she doles out his first heartbreak. All things he never realized when he was the one sitting in the chair, he’d always thought it was _easy_ for her.

“I hope you’ll understand someday, Alex,” she says quietly, trying to keep the hurt out of her voice and failing.

Alex doesn’t reply, he doesn’t even look up when the woman walks away, swallowing against the lump in her throat. As soon as the front door closes behind her, Alex curls in on himself in the chair and starts to cry. Pain and anger and embarrassment knotted in his chest as tears come fast and hot. The figure can only watch helplessly, another wave of emotion washing over him because he knows that Alex feels like he’ll never stop crying again. Knows he feels like the ache in his chest will never subside enough to let him breathe and there’s nothing the young renegade can do to fix it. 

**********

In the blink of an eye, the young renegade finds himself standing in the faint light at the edge of a streetlamp’s reach, reeling at the sudden change. The smell of salty sea air fills his head and the chill of the early spring night makes him pull his jacket tighter around him. Ten feet away, he hears a rock splash into the water followed by a shower of pebbles. As his vision acclimates to the near darkness, he can make out the shapes of two boys by the water’s edge and knows where he is - _when_ he is. It’s later the same day and he knows Alex is still feeling bruised from the conversation in his living room this afternoon. 

He remembers this part, too, making his way to the waterfront and then texting his best friend to come keep him company because he couldn’t stand the thought of being alone. It’s strange watching it happen to someone else when he can still feel the ache in his own chest. The boys are sitting with their feet dangling off the edge of the pier tossing whatever rocks and pebbles they can reach into the water. It’s Alex’s voice he hears first.

“I just thought we had.. y’know.. “

“Chemistry?” The other boy snickers as he says it and Alex reaches over to hit him on the arm, but misses.

“I’m being fucking serious, Jack,” Alex says, annoyed.

“Yeah, I know, man,” Jack mumbles. “Sorry.”

Silence falls between the two boys for a moment, Alex lost in thought and Jack watching him. The young renegade can see the concern on Jack’s face, see him open his mouth to speak and close it again without saying anything several times. Things he couldn’t see the last time he was here. A few more rocks splash into the water before Alex finally speaks again.

“I know it’s stupid,” he says. “I know there was never a chance she was gonna leave him for me, but I don’t know.. a part of me really thought she would, I guess. Maybe I shouldn’t have pushed so hard.”

“Would it have mattered?” Jack asks. He lies back on the pier to look up at the few stars he can see through the city lights. “I mean, if you’d waited a year to ask her or two years, do you really think she would’ve done it?”

Alex is silent for a long moment, rubbing his hands absentmindedly up and down his thighs before he finally sighs and lies back to look up at the sky, too. He considers the question carefully and no matter what angle he tries to come at it from, the answer is the same every time.

“No,” he finally says softly. “She’s got her own life all made and I’m just some dumb kid. Probably better that it was now and not in a year or two, huh?”

“Exactly.”

“And anyway, we’ve got so much band shit to do now that we’re finally gonna be out of school. It’s - ”

“Yeah,” Jack interrupts excitedly, “we’re finally gonna be able to _tour_ for real!”

Alex laughs, nodding in agreement even though Jack can’t see him. He’s thankful for that if he’s being honest. Finally getting the fuck out of this city and all the mess of school and dealing with girls and everything else that always makes him feel like he’s in over his head? He can’t wait. The memory of that excitement makes the young renegade smile to himself. It feels like it’s been so long since he felt that kind of rush.

“Oh, shit, what time is it?” Jack pulls his phone out of his pocket hurriedly and looks at the time. He groans and curses again under his breath, sitting up and pushing up onto his feet so fast he makes himself dizzy as he looks down at Alex. “Dude, I gotta get home or my mom’s gonna kill me.”

“Yeah, go ahead, think I’m just gonna chill here for a while.”

When Jack is gone Alex lets out a long sigh and reaches up to rub his eyes. He knows he should go home, too, and try to sleep but the thought of an empty bed tonight is too much to bear so he goes back to staring at the sky, trying to find the constellations he can remember as he lets his mind wander. The young renegade moves a little closer to the boy whose broken heart is all but on display for the world to see and sits down on a wooden crate that’s pushed up against a warehouse wall, still shivering even though he’s out of the cool wind now.

Alex glances around, suddenly feeling as though he’s not completely alone, but when he doesn’t see anyone, he settles back into his constellation search. His mind turns over and over what happened this afternoon, when she came to his house after school to tell him they were through. He wonders if there’s anything he could have said that would have made a difference, if begging her to give it just a little longer would have helped. Deep down he knows it wouldn’t have, though.

He knew it was stupid to get involved with a married woman to begin with and god knows that even if he _hadn’t_ been fully aware of that, Jack and the other guys made damn sure to tell him every chance they got. They’d never have understood even if he’d tried to explain. He knew it was a bad idea but it was exciting to have her interest, exciting keeping the secret and meeting her whenever and wherever they could carve out a little time together. How many 18-year-old dudes get that kind of chance? Not many, he’d guess.

The weight of the universe feels heavy on him tonight, almost like the stars are looking back down at him. He knows he’s got so much to look forward to but god, tonight everything feels like it’s gone straight to hell even though he probably always knew this was exactly how it would work out. The young renegade suddenly feels like he’s intruding, feels like the thoughts going through Alex’s head are clear as day in his mind, too. Is it his own memory of the night or can he really _hear_ what the boy is thinking?

He shifts, his foot dislodging a pebble that skips a few inches before it stops. Alex sits up and looks around again, peering into the edges of the light trying to see if there’s anyone around because he could swear he heard something. As he gets to his feet, his hand brushes a pebble that he missed when he was throwing them in the water before. He picks it up and tosses it in with a satisfying splash before he zips up his jacket and pulls up the collar to block the wind on the back of his neck. 

With one last glance up at the sky that’s washed out with city lights, he pushes his hands into his pockets and leaves for home. The young renegade watches him go without saying a word, the familiarity of Alex’s heavy heart feeling like a stone in the middle of his own chest.


	3. Good Times (2008)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What could have inspired Good Times? I don't know, but maybe it went something like this.

He finds himself sitting atop a stack of beat up black equipment trunks in a small practice room tucked into a warehouse near the docks, a buzz of excitement coming from the four boys sitting on the floor below. Unsure how he got there or even when he did, he crosses his legs and leans forward, recognizing Alex and Jack immediately, though they’re a little older now. The other two are so familiar they feel like brothers though the young renegade can’t remember their names no matter how hard he tries. Three of the boys are talking while Alex writes in a notebook he’s got laying open across his thigh.

“Can you fucking believe it?” Jack waves his arms to indicate the neat stacks of black boxes identical to the ones the young renegade is perched on. “A real _tour_ , we’re gonna have a bus and _everything_.”

“Live! At a dive sorta near you! All Time Low!” one of the boys the young renegade doesn’t recognize chimes in dramatically, laughing. 

The words catch him by surprise. He knows this day and this moment, remembers sitting with his bandmates and working on a song while they chattered about the tour that starts tomorrow, the first one that feels real to them. But something about it is not quite right.. ‘All Time Low.’ That’s.. wrong, that’s not the name of his band, it's _always_ been The Young Renegades. He frowns and picks at the strings of his jeans and turns his attention back to the conversation that’s still going on below.

“C’mon, Rian,” answers the fourth boy as he throws a crumpled ball of paper at Rian.

“I know, I know,” Rian says, holding his hands up defensively. “It just doesn’t feel real, ya know?”

“That’s what I told Zack last night,” Jack says. He inclines his head toward the boy who admonished Rian, “like.. whose idea _was_ this? Do they know what they’re doing? Have they ever met us??”

“They’ve _definitely_ never met us,” Zack says. 

The three boys laugh so loudly that Alex finally looks up from his notebook, a small frown of concentration still pulling at his brow.

“Wait, what?”

“Just talking about how stupid everyone is to let us do a real tour,” comes Rian’s answer and the boys all laugh again, including Alex this time.

“Yeah, it’s pretty wild,” he agrees with a smile, then turns his attention back to what he was writing. A song, maybe, or maybe just a poem. Sometimes it’s hard for him to tell.

Within seconds the others have settled back into their animated conversation, talking about how much they’re going to drink and the trouble they’re going to get into once they’re out there with what seems like no real adult supervision. The buzz of their words fills the air, but the young renegade’s attention is focused solely on Alex, who’s bent over his notebook and chewing at his lip in thought, writing and scratching out and writing again.

As he watches Alex try again and again to get the words just right, he can feel the same aura of nervous excitement that’s surrounding the other boys. There’s something different in him, though. A heaviness that the other three don’t seem to possess, a bit of sadness creeping in around the edges of Alex’s happiness. It’s a sadness he remembers all too well, one he knows Alex is trying to push down and ignore because he thinks he’s supposed to be nothing but happy about this and he doesn’t want to bring anyone else down. 

The conversation ebbs and flows and the sunlight coming in the window slowly turns golden as one by one the other boys leave until Alex is alone in the room. He looks up and stretches, taking in the hum of nervous energy his friends left behind them. When he half turns and looks up toward the ceiling, his gaze settles directly on the spot where the young renegade has been sitting for the last half hour, but just like the woman before, it’s clear that Alex doesn’t _see_ him.

He holds his breath anyway, keeping himself as still as possible until Alex looks away again. The phone in the boy’s pocket chimes and he pulls it out to look. A smile lights up his face as he puts aside his pen and notebook, and gives his attention to sending a text in return. A moment later, he stands up and tucks his notebook into one of the smaller black boxes in the room, the only one with the letters “A.W.G.” stenciled on it. With one last glance around the room, Alex leaves too, locking the door behind him and leaving the unseen figure behind in the empty room, still turning over ‘Young Renegades’ in his mind.

If everything else has been the same, why is his band called something different? His life feels like a dream, but what if it isn’t? Before he has time to think about it too much, the young renegade is falling through time again.

**********

Hours later, finds himself walking under the arch leading into a park and toward a picnic table at the edge of a stone path. It’s late and the air is warm and humid with a lingering scent of salt that fills his senses. The unmistakable smell of the ocean in summer. He takes a seat on the long wooden bench beside the table and looks around, unsure exactly if it’s even the same day or why he’s here. The answer comes only a scant moment later when he notices two figures lying on a blanket at the very edge of the light cast by one of the lamps that lines the path. It’s a boy - Alex - with a petite girl who’s pressed closely against his side.

“What if you forget me while you’re gone? What if you meet girls who are prettier than me? What if they’re cooler?”

The girl’s voice is quiet and even, as though she’s trying to hide how deeply the worries that underlie her words actually go. Alex tightens his arm around her and pulls her even closer against his body then presses a kiss to the top of her head.

“That will never happen,” he answers confidently. “There’s probably no girl in the world who’s prettier than you and _definitely_ not one who’s cooler.”

“You’re such a liar,” the girl says, but she laughs and hides her face against his neck, reassured by his words.

Silence falls between them again, soft and comfortable and filled in by the lazy chirp of crickets. Even though it’s warm, the young renegade catches himself pushing his hands in his pockets and huddling into his jacket as this night and this conversation comes flooding back into his consciousness. He can feel the same sadness like a pit in Alex’s chest - in _his_ chest - that he felt earlier as Alex rubs his fingertips absentmindedly up and down the girl’s arm, looking up at the stars and lost in thought.

“I’ll miss you,” Alex says finally. His voice is quieter than before, thoughtful. “I wish I didn’t have to leave to make this happen. What if you find a boy who’s better than me?”

“There are no better boys in the world.”

“You’re such a liar.”

They both laugh this time and the girl lifts her head, looking down at Alex for a moment before she leans down to kiss him softly.

“It’s so late, I should probably get home,” she says reluctantly as he reaches up to push her dark hair out of her face.

“Want me to walk with you?”

“No, I’ll be fine. And I’ll text you when I get there,” the girl answers. She hesitates. “Will you come over before you leave tomorrow?”

“Of course I will,” Alex says softly, pushing up on his elbow to kiss her again. “No way I’d leave without seeing your beautiful face.”

It makes the girl giggle and she and Alex share a few more quiet words, the glow of young love so familiar to the young renegade even though the words seem to move right past him without leaving their mark. Promises whispered on the edge of a new beginning without knowing what the future would really hold. When she has left and Alex is alone, the boy sighs and stretches out, letting himself sink into the softness of the blanket and the warmth of the night.

With the young renegade watching unnoticed, Alex closes his eyes and lets his thoughts drift, his head feeling so full tonight of everything. It feels like everything is happening so fast even though it feels like it’s taken forever at the same time and he just knows deep down somehow that tonight is the ending of an important chapter in his life. The young renegade chews thoughtfully at his lip, wondering if he ever would have left if he’d known how big an ending it really was. The feeling weighs heavy on Alex’s chest because as much as he’s wanted to get out of this town for the past few years, he never thought it would actually happen and definitely not like _this_.

Not suddenly and with this feeling of finality. It’s stupid that it feels so final, he knows that. It isn’t like he can’t ever come back - he’ll be back as soon as this tour is over and probably again after the one that comes next. But lying here tonight with his head full of all the good times he’s had with his friends in his city, he’s struck by how different life will be when he does come home. What if people treat him differently? What if _everything_ is different when he comes home again?

He sighs again and opens his eyes, twisting a lock of his unruly hair around his fingertip as he looks up at the stars and thinks about the last couple of months. Every day since he graduated feels bittersweet now, like it’s filled to the brim with making memories that he somehow knew he’d have to carry with him out into the world soon. That’s probably stupid, too, but it’s the only way he can think about it. A light, warm rain starts to fall and the young renegade shifts on the wooden bench, still in no hurry to leave as the thoughts in Alex’s head once more feel like his own. 

Alex finally gets to his feet and folds the blanket haphazardly, muttering under his breath about how the rain could have at least given him a little warning. It starts to pick up as the boy steps onto the stone path that will take him back out of the park and home, past the bright neon lights in the distance. The young renegade watches until Alex disappears out of sight on the other side of the arch at the edge of the park and then, just as suddenly as he was there, the figure in the oversized jacket and ripped jeans is gone again into the hazy gray of the moment that always sits between right now and what’s next.


	4. Last Young Renegade (2009)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The young renegade finds his voice.

With a start, the young renegade realizes he’s walking through a rain soaked alley. He stops and looks behind him, trying to remember how he got here but he can’t. All he remembers is a haze and a blur, being there then being here. A sound catches his attention and pulls him back into the moment and at the edge of the light on the other end of the alley, he can see two people arguing. He hears their raised voices, though the words die in the air before they reach his ears. 

He starts walking again, a familiar knot starting to form in his stomach when he gets close enough to recognize the man’s voice. Of course it’s Alex, who else would it have been? When he’s close enough to actually hear them the young renegade stops and leans against the wet brick wall to watch, wrapped in shadows.

“Look, I really don’t know what you want from me here,” Alex says, frustration dripping from his words.

“I guess I don’t either,” the girl answers, all the anger gone from her voice now and replaced with resignation. “Maybe that’s the point.”

“Don’t say that.”

Silence descends between them as the girl stands just out of Alex’s reach, looking down at the pavement in thought. Alex is half sitting on the hood of his car, watching her, waiting, a tightness in his chest that the young renegade feels squeeze his own lungs. Alex bites his lip and looks down at the ground, too, his heart racing with all the things he wants to say and all the things he _should_ say.

The young renegade remembers this moment so clearly, remembers how close he came to saying the right thing, to saying _anything_ at all. He holds his breath, wishing again that the outcome will be different, that it’s not an echo of what he knows will happen. But, a moment later the girl looks up at Alex and sighs.

“I think you need some time to think,” she says.

Her words are soft but they hit Alex like a ton of bricks and leave him stunned. Before he can even begin to formulate a response, she is walking toward the passenger side of the car. Her movements deliberate, avoiding looking at Alex as she opens the door and gets her jacket off the seat. She stops there, closes the door slowly, looking at Alex’s back since he still hasn’t turned around. The young renegade can see the hope slowly fading from her face, her lips pressing into a thin line as she slips into her jacket, and he wants to scream at Alex to just say something to stop her but he suspects the man wouldn’t hear him anyway.

“Maybe I’ll see you next time you’re home,” the girl says so quietly her words barely carry to the young renegade’s ears. She looks past Alex and right at him, a puzzled frown pulling at her features like she thought someone was there but they’re actually not. With a little shiver like she’s shaking off a chill, she looks back at Alex. 

He’s still trying to catch his breath, trying to find the perfect words to fix everything, trying to force his brain to do anything other than spin uselessly. He hears the girl walking away and closes his eyes, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat.

“Please don’t go,” he whispers finally. 

It’s too little, too late. The girl is too far away to hear him and he can’t bring himself to say it again, so he buries his face in his hands and takes a deep breath and then another, trying to calm the fear that’s curled around his guts at the thought that she’s _the_ girl. At the thought that he’s just lost the only girl who will ever truly matter to him and it’s all because he was stupid and thoughtless, easily avoided but not easily fixed. He fights against the tears that have been threatening for the last half hour but it’s useless and soon his hands are wet with them.

The young renegade inches closer, his foot scraping over a plastic wrapper that must have fallen from the dumpster behind him and making him stop short. The sound of crinkling plastic makes Alex look up, a sudden feeling that he’s being watched making the hair on the back of his neck stand up, but the thought is gone as quickly as it was there when he looks right through the young renegade without seeing him. Alex rubs his wet eyes and forces himself to take another deep breath against the deep ache in his chest. When he’s gathered his composure enough to feel like he can speak without crying again, he pulls his phone from his pocket and a few taps later lifts it to his ear.

“Hey,” he says a moment later, his voice still thick with emotion, “I’ll be there in like twenty minutes. We’re getting fucking hammered tonight.”

When the phone is safely back in his pocket a few short seconds later, he pushes off the hood of the car and glances one more time in the young renegade’s direction, squinting in the darkness to try to make out if there’s actually something there or it’s just his imagination. The young renegade stands motionless, watching Alex intently, willing him to _see_ that there’s someone standing right where he’s looking. Alex still doesn’t see him, though, he just shakes his head like he’s trying to clear a fog from his mind and shrugs before he opens the door and settles behind the wheel.

For a second, the young renegade wonders what would happen if he got in the car with Alex, if he’d even be able to do it if he tried. Before the thought can even fully form, Alex has started the car and is driving away, leaving the unseen shadow of himself standing in the alleyway as a warm spring shower starts to pour down again. The young renegade barely has time to take two steps forward before he’s enveloped in the gray haze again, an echo of an echo with no one there to hear, falling through time.

**********

It’s dark when the flow of time slows around the young renegade again and he’s in an unfamiliar room. It smells.. clean, but the wrong kind of clean. The ‘not at home’ kind and he knows this definitely isn’t Baltimore. He looks around the space he’s found himself in - a small, doorless room off a bigger one - and moves closer to the shaft of light coming in from the other room. When he finally peers around the doorjamb he sees Alex sitting on the edge of a hotel bed in an otherwise empty room, staring at his phone.

“What the fuck am I doing?”

A knock at the door makes both Alex and the young renegade jump and Alex shoves his phone in his pocket, cursing again under his breath as he gets up to answer it.

“Well, did you call her?”

It’s Rian. He pushes past Alex without an invitation then turns around to look at him expectantly.

“Not yet,” Alex admits. “What if she doesn’t answer? Or what if she _does_? I don’t know what to say.”

“You could try ‘I’m sorry’,” Rian answers, half shrugging. “I’ve heard it’s a good place to start when you fuck everything up.”

“You’re not helping.”

“I’m not trying to help,” Rian shoots back without missing a beat. “Look, we’ll be home tomorrow and you’ve been insufferable for the last month. I just want you to call her so that when we leave again next week maybe you’ll be in a better mood. Purely self-interest.”

Alex laughs at that and pushes Rian playfully toward the door, telling him, “Fine, get lost and I’ll call her.” 

When Rian is gone again, the smile fades from Alex’s face and he pulls his phone back out of his pocket, taking up his seat on the edge of the bed again. The young renegade edges into the room slowly, watching as Alex stares at his phone, twisting a lock of his messy hair absentmindedly around a finger.

“Call her,” the young renegade thinks. “Just call her.”

But Alex turns his phone face down with a sigh and gets up from the bed. After slipping on his shoes and a jacket, he leaves the room. The young renegade expects to be swallowed up by the passing of time again as it seems he always is in these moments, but this time it doesn’t happen. He waits alone in the quiet of the room, finally relaxing for what feels like the first time in his _existence_ as he carefully inspects his surroundings, trying to get some idea of what he can and can’t affect. A chair moves when he pushes against the back of it but the door handle to the outside world feels slippery in his grip, like he could probably turn it if he really _tried_ but with nothing less than that kind of effort.

He turns his attention to Alex’s phone on the bed, picking it up easily. The screen comes to life and there’s a picture of Alex and a girl, blonde and petite and beautiful - _the_ girl - smiling out at the world. The young renegade is hit by a surge of familiarity, an echo of a memory of the night the picture was taken. A party with loud music and louder people, a blur of alcohol and dancing, the moment this photo was snapped, trying to break up a scuffle between two guys who were threatening to ruin the entire night for everyone. And later, when he and the girl were alone at last, lying in the grass looking up at the stars visible from suburban Baltimore, warm in the summer air, drunk and love drunk, and promising the moon to one another.

He can’t tell whether it’s half a second or a lifetime later when he hears the scuff of feet outside the door. The young renegade drops Alex’s phone back to the bed where he found it, a prickle of worry tingling at the back of his neck when he slips back to his place in the shadows as if someone could actually see him. A moment later Alex comes through the door, a beer in one hand and a half empty bottle of vodka in the other. He winces as he shuts the door harder than he means to and drops onto the bed in a heap, somehow managing not to spill either of the bottles he’s holding.

“Shit,” he growls as he sits back up to take his jacket off and kick off his shoes, both processes taking several tries to complete. 

He sighs wearily when he flops back down, rubbing his eyes, his bottles forgotten on the nightstand for the moment. The young renegade slips out of the shadows and a little closer to the bed, though he’s still careful not to get _too_ close.

“Call her,” he says aloud this time, his heartbeat quickening when Alex stirs a little. “Call her, Alex.”

Alex sits up again and looks around the room, stopping briefly when his gaze passes over where the young renegade is standing before continuing on, his words a little slurred when he says, “Fuck, I must be drunker than I thought.”

“Call. Her.” 

The young renegade’s heart beats hard against his breastbone when he takes a step closer, his voice low and steady though his hands are shaking when he repeats himself. He remembers this moment so damn clearly now that it’s happening: drunk in a motel room two hundred miles from home and scared to death to make the phone call that feels like it will determine the course of the rest of his life.

Looking around the room again, Alex reaches for his phone without even meaning to, a buzz at the base of his skull telling him he’s not alone while his eyes tell him that he is. A voice ringing in his head that only repeats the same words over and over again: call her. _Surely_ , he thinks, _I’m just that drunk_. Courage in a bottle, isn’t that what they call alcohol? He takes a breath and looks down at the phone in his hand again.

“Fuck it,” he finally says under his breath, “I’m gonna call her.”

Even though he knows how the call will end, the young renegade holds his breath as Alex dials and lifts the phone to his ear, moving slowly back toward the shadows as it rings. Alex looks right at him just as he’s blending into the darkness of the next room, squinting against the harsh light from the ceiling and still not seeing him.

“Hey,” Alex says when the girl answers at last, his words tripping over one another on their way past his lips, “I’ll be home tomorrow and I really wanna see you, I’m so sorry - “

There’s a pause and Alex lies back down, giving his full attention to what the girl is saying.

“Yeah?” The relief in his voice is palpable and the young renegade can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “ _God_ , I’ve missed you, too. So fucking mu- ”

Time swallows the young renegade up again before the sentence ends, but this time he’s ready for it. As he falls through the haze and blur, he catches glimpses of things yet to come. Tomorrow when Alex gets home, a few weeks from now when he’s out on tour, a couple of months down the road when he and the girl are in another tense conversation, a while after that as they walk on the beach hand in hand, another breakup, another makeup, another stolen moment to themselves in the chaos that Alex’s life is becoming…


	5. Dark Side Of Your Room (2010)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An argument, a snowstorm, and a collision of worlds.

The last thing the young renegade sees before the haze retreats and the real world comes into focus is Alex dancing with a girl in a darkened club, pressed a little too close and enjoying it a little too much. She isn’t _the_ girl, a realization that becomes clearer when he drops into time in the hallway of a brightly lit apartment to the sound of raised voices. It only takes a second for him to get his bearings and make his way to the source of the conversation. 

He stands in the doorway between the hall and the kitchen, taking in the scene in front of him. Alex is leaned against the counter, his arms folded tightly over his chest and his cheeks red, his mouth pulled into an angry line as he stares at the ceiling. The girl he's arguing with is only a few feet away, standing rigid with her hand on the curve of her hip, glaring up at Alex even though he doesn’t see it. She speaks first, her tone biting.

“Sorry I didn’t realize I was supposed to report to you.”

“You could’ve fucking called is all I’m saying,” Alex answers, finally lowering his gaze to the girl. “I waited all night for you because you _said_ you would and then you didn’t. And.. you keep doing this. If you don’t wanna see me anymore just tell me. Stop stringing me along.”

“Maybe something came up,” the girl says, ignoring most of what he said. She shrugs and takes a step closer to Alex, pushing her dark hair out of her face and letting herself relax. “I’m here now, though.”

Alex is silent, looking away when she smiles at him. The young renegade knows this isn’t the first time they’ve had a conversation like this and usually it ends in a bedroom. His, hers; it doesn’t matter. It seems to be the only way they know how to communicate since trying to talk usually ends in an argument. The girl takes another step closer to Alex, reaches out to tug at the hem of his shirt.

“Come on, Alex, we agreed: no strings.”

Her words make Alex flinch almost imperceptibly. He knows she’s right, he _did_ agree to that. Too bad he didn’t know that he was also agreeing to her spending more time with an old flame than she ever would with him or he probably wouldn’t have. He pushes her hand away with a brush of his own and looks down at her again, searching for words. She crosses her arms over her chest this time and goes back to glaring.

“You really have no idea,” he says in an even voice, “how much I’ve given up for you, do you?” 

“I never asked you to give up _anything_ for me,” she shoots back coldly. “I’ve never asked you for a thing.”

“That’s the point. You didn’t have to.”

It’s clear that his words surprise the girl. She opens her mouth to respond but he cuts her off before she can even get anything out; his words softer now, the hurt that underlies his anger finally so clear that it makes the young renegade’s chest ache in sympathy.

“I just don’t think I can do this anymore. I don’t know what I expected but it wasn’t.. this. It wasn’t feeling like a complete fool every time I believe what you say, feeling like I’m asking for something unreasonable when all I want is for you to put a _fraction_ of the effort into this as I am. I’m so sick of feeling..,” he pauses, searching desperately for the right word and finally settling on, “.. _used_.”

The girl stands in stunned silence for a few seconds, looking everywhere except at Alex now as she processes what he said. The young renegade looks from her to Alex, sees the way he’s swallowing against the lump in his throat and knows that somewhere deep down inside he’s still hoping she’ll admit that she wants more than what they’ve had, make him believe he’s wrong about her intentions and that there’s a way to make this work after all. Despite the finality of his words, he’d take it all back if she’d just say that she wants a real relationship with him as much as he wants one with her.

“If that’s how you feel - “

“It is.”

The young renegade’s heart sinks as the last of Alex’s hope fades, the ache so deep it makes him pull his jacket tighter around him instinctively. The girl nods, biting her lip and still not looking up to meet Alex’s eyes. She busies herself instead with getting her purse and sunglasses from the kitchen counter, checking to make sure she has everything she brought. When she finally looks back up at Alex, she looks close to tears. It comes as a surprise to the young renegade to see the wetness in her eyes. He knows Alex doesn’t even notice and wonders if the rest of this would play out differently if he _did_.

“I guess I’ll go, then,” she says, drawing the words out a little as though she’s giving Alex the chance to change his mind.

“Yeah, I’ll see you around.”

Alex’s reply is stiff, almost formal, and so is the polite smile he wears as the girl walks away. He keeps it plastered in place until he hears the front door close behind her. As soon as she’s safely gone, he crumbles. Tears fill his eyes as he rummages through the cabinet for a glass. Sadness, sure, but more than that he’s angry with himself for how stupid he feels now that it’s crystal clear that he gave up the best thing that ever happened to him for someone who just wanted a good time. Angry with how much it _stings_ to know for sure that he was never more than a notch on her bedpost when he wanted to be so. much. more. than that. 

The familiarity of this moment of grief washes over the young renegade, uncertainty about the future and regrets about the past tangled in a knot inside him just as surely as they are in Alex when he realizes for the first time that he doesn’t actually know what comes next. He never has known what would happen past the very moment he’s witnessing, but it never dawned on him before because it never mattered so much. 

His head is swimming with potential futures, with trying to fill in missing moments of the past as Alex fills his glass with ice and reaches for the bottle of vodka on the island in the center of the room, dropping onto one of the barstools in front of it. The scramble of time envelops the young renegade as he watches Alex fill his glass and take the first drink and then he’s falling and falling and falling, days bleeding together with glimpses of Alex and _the_ girl, of the whirlwind life of touring, of a recording studio and a beach and a skyscraper in a far away place and before he knows it, everything is staticky gray and moving too fast to see anything.

**********

The first thing the young renegade sees is icicles, brilliant points of light filtered through thick shards of ice hanging from the roof’s edge of the cabin in front of him. The air is frigid and filled with the remnants of falling snow, the last straggling flakes at the end of the storm. His legs feel unsteady and his stomach weirdly tight as he takes in the scene, struggling to figure out where he is because for the first time there’s nothing familiar about his surroundings.

He’s relieved when he notices the cabin’s door is wide open and hurries toward it but dread fills his gut when he approaches the doorway, still completely unsure of where _or when_ he’s found himself. Before he walks inside he takes one last look back out at the snow, barely registering that his footprints have already disappeared - if they were even there to begin with - or that the snowstorm has started to pick up again. The world goes dark when he steps into the cabin, vision strained until his eyes adjust to the reduced light and he realizes he’s in another kitchen.

From the next room he hears Alex, voice strained and raw and his words too quiet for the young renegade to make out until he gets closer. When he settles into yet another doorway into Alex’s life he looks around the room, taking in the minimal but homey furniture and the frosted windows, the crackle of the fireplace on the opposite wall. It takes a second before he sees Alex sprawled on the couch and even longer to see Jack slouched down in an overstuffed chair across from him.

“Maybe,” Alex says, throwing his arm over his eyes, “if I stop giving a fuck about girls, I’ll stop feeling like I’m never good enough for them.”

Jack’s only reply is a soft, “Hm.”

“Or.. maybe I’m just _not_ good enough for them. Maybe that’s the problem, I’m just -”

“Bullshit!” Jack cuts him off mid-sentence, sitting up a little straighter in the chair and looking at Alex earnestly. “Fuck that and fuck _her_ , man. She played you.”

Alex is quiet for a long time, twisting his hair around a fingertip and staring at the ceiling in thought. A sudden rush of familiarity washes over the young renegade finally: this he remembers. The conversation and the long silences punctuated with loud sighs and although he can’t remember _where_ it happened, he knows it wasn’t _here_. After a moment, Jack pushes himself up from his chair and starts toward the young renegade, making him step back reflexively when Jack gets close to the doorway he’s currently filling, but he doesn’t move fast enough. Just before they collide, Jack sidesteps him as though he’s not even there. 

The man pauses and shivers, then mumbles something about the door being open under his breath as he goes to close it. As the young renegade watches him cross the room, he steps well out of the way of the opening he was just standing in, his heartbeat quick and his senses heightened. The rush of energy he felt when Jack got so close was exhilarating but also a little terrifying since he’s still not even sure what space he occupies in this world and he’s not really ready to find out.

“Want a beer?”

Jack’s question rings through the air but he doesn’t wait for Alex’s answer before he grabs two beers from the fridge and starts back toward the living room. His gaze fixes on the spot where the young renegade is standing and he tilts his head, looking intently for a second before he blinks and looks away again, rounding the doorframe to rejoin Alex, dropping his best friend’s beer into his waiting hands and then dropping himself back into the chair he was in before with a thud.

“That was weird,” he says, looking back toward the doorway where the young renegade has once again settled in to watch.

“Hm?”

“You’re gonna think I’m crazy, but it felt like there was someone in the kitchen with me.”

Alex sits up on the couch and looks toward the door, looking right at the other version of himself for what seems like the thousandth time before he half shrugs and opens his beer, his voice half-teasing when he finally looks away without having seen the young renegade yet again and answers, “Probably just a ghost, dude. Who knows how old this place is.”

“Yeah,” Jack laughs a little nervously and opens his own beer, “probably just a ghost.”

They leave the topic of the girl behind them for the time being, talking instead about the songs Alex has written in the past few weeks, going over some of the lyrics that don’t quite fit together yet. It’s an easy camaraderie, words flowing seamlessly between them as they sip their beers and bounce ideas off one another. When they come to the most recent song, Jack picks up the notebook Alex scribbled his lyrics in and reads over them line by line.

“Do you think she’ll know it’s about her?”

“I fucking hope so,” Alex answers indignantly. “I made it as obvious as I could without actually saying her name.”

He grins at Jack and leans back on the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table and taking a long drink from his beer. Jack slouches back down in his chair and puts his feet up, too. A comfortable silence falls as Alex hums a soft melody to himself, envisioning adding something a little different to this song, something to set it apart from the others on the album they’ll start recording in just a couple of week’s time.

“You should call home,” Jack says softly after a couple of minutes.

“She doesn’t want to talk to me.”

Alex knows exactly which ‘home’ Jack is referring to and he’s thought about calling a million times in the past week or two. He’s talked himself out of it every time because he doesn’t know how to fix this one and anyway, he heard from a mutual friend who lives in Baltimore that she’s moved on without him. He definitely can’t deal with hearing that from her right now.

“You don’t know that.”

Jack pulls the tab off his beer and throws it at Alex, managing to hit him in the chest with it. Alex throws it back and misses completely. Maybe Jack’s right, though, maybe it’s not as bad as it seems in his head. Maybe James is wrong and she _doesn’t_ have a new boyfriend. Maybe, maybe, maybe..

“Maybe I’ll call her later,” he says.

“Good,” Jack answers, looking pleased with himself. “Worst that could happen is she’ll tell you she hates your fucking guts and don’t ever call again.”

“That actually.. doesn’t help, Jack.”

Before Jack can come up with a witty retort, Alex unfolds himself from the couch and stretches, then downs the rest of his beer in a single gulp. When he lowers the can, he wipes his mouth and looks down at Jack again.

“I’m gonna get another beer - you want one?”

Jack only grunts acknowledgement, too busy finishing off his own can to say anything. When Alex turns toward the kitchen door, the young renegade holds his breath and stands a little straighter, deciding he’s _not_ going to move this time. He’s going to stand right where he is, blocking entry into the kitchen until Alex gets to him.. just to see what will happen. _Maybe_ , he decides, _it’s time to find out if I’m even real_.

Only a second later, Alex is half a step away and still moving. The young renegade would _swear_ their eyes have met, that Alex is looking directly _at_ him rather than through him for once. Before he can know for sure, before Alex runs into him or sidesteps or turns away, before he can learn anything at all, there’s a flash and a tumble of black and gray static and the young renegade is suddenly, violently trapped in the flow of time, Alex’s surprised “what the fuck?!” ringing in his head.


	6. Nice2KnoU (2011)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems things get weird when you start to get famous and Alex is learning that the hard way. Also, a conversation in an empty room.

The young renegade crumbles to the concrete floor as soon as time drops him into place, dazed and aching all over. The cacophony of drums and guitar disorients him even further and he closes his eyes against the flash of lights in the huge, mostly empty room. He can’t remember where he was last or where he is in the stream of his past and Alex’s present. When the music finally ends and the stage lights steady, he struggles to get to his feet feeling.. blank in a way he hasn’t since the first time he found himself standing in Alex’s teenage home.

When he looks up, Alex is jumping down from the front of the stage fifteen feet in front of him and bounding toward a small group of people halfway between them. The rest of the band exits the stage toward the dressing rooms. The crew also disperses now that soundcheck is finished, off to enjoy the rest of their afternoon before the real work begins. The young renegade shifts uneasily when Alex starts to come closer, a low buzz at the base of his skull making him take a step away even though they’re not close to one another at all.

“Hey,” Alex greets one of the men in the group, “good to see you!”

“It’s been a while,” the man replies, reaching out to shake Alex’s hand. “I didn’t know if you’d remember me. Thanks for inviting us to your soundcheck.”

“Thanks for coming. Always glad to see old friends.”

Alex settles into conversation with the man and the couple who are with him and the young renegade edges further from the lights of the stage. He stays close enough to hear the small talk they’re exchanging but every time Alex so much as glances in his direction, he almost feels an overwhelming desire to get further away. As the moments pass, pieces start to fall into place in his head. He finally remembers when he last saw Alex and what happened, the memory of Alex’s elbow hitting him square in the chest even as he was fading from existence and the sharp “what the fuck?!” making him shiver. He wonders what Alex remembers, if he remembers anything at all.

“Yeah, go with this guy here, he’ll take care of you,” Alex says to the group as two men approach them. “I’ll try to catch you after the show, but sometimes things get a little crazy.”

He says his goodbyes and one of the men leads the group away, leaving only Alex and the other man in the room with the young renegade.

“I’m not even sure who they were, man,” Alex confides when they’re well out of earshot. “It weirds me out that everyone knows me and I don’t know them anymore.”

“That’s what happens when you get _famous_.”

“Yeah, Danny, I’m so famous I’m gonna walk outside in ten minutes and nobody’s gonna recognize me.”

Alex laughs it off and changes the subject, setting up dinner plans at his favorite restaurant since he rarely gets to play hometown shows anymore. The young renegade doesn’t recognize Danny, though he assumes this is the tour manager. Just another minor difference from his own memory, but for some reason this one bothers him. The thought crosses his mind that maybe he fucked everything up when he.. did _whatever the hell he did_.. the last time he saw Alex and now everything is different, but he tries not to dwell on it. He edges slightly further from the light when he realizes Alex and Danny are finishing up their conversation.

When they’re finished speaking, Danny walks away and as soon as the door clangs shut behind him, the young renegade is painfully aware that he’s alone in the room with Alex now. For the first time, the thought fills him with dread. Alex turns slowly, looking around the room, letting his eyes linger on every shadow that catches his attention, on every glint that jumps out at him. He keeps turning, his movements slow and deliberate, only stopping when he’s finally facing the young renegade.

“I know you’re here,” he says quietly, tilting his head. “I can’t see you, but I _know_.”

The words bring the weight of memory crashing down on the young renegade, a blur of moments when he was alone but never _alone_ , the feeling of being watched in the most mundane places and times, a feeling that something or someone was there with him when he least expected it. He holds his breath, not daring to move because what if Alex _can_ see him now if he moves too much or gets too close. Suddenly the thought of being seen is terrifying.

Alex takes a tentative step closer and then another, stopping again and turning slightly. As soon as Alex isn’t fully facing the young renegade anymore it’s such a relief that his breath whooshes out and his legs feel shaky. It’s even more of a relief when Alex doesn’t hear him. He stands as still as possible even now, the hair on the back of his neck standing up every time Alex’s gaze sweeps back toward him even a little bit.

“You’re not a ghost,” Alex says after a full minute of silence. “There’s no such thing as ghosts and anyway, you go where I go.”

He waits, looking around, his pulse quick as he scans the room again and again, trying to pinpoint the source of the energy he feels crackling in the air around him. He first felt it in a cabin in the middle of nowhere nearly a year ago. The feeling that he ran into someone even though there was definitely no one in front of him and the sound of someone gasping, then a static charge like he’d touched metal in winter. He takes another step, recalibrates and takes one more before stopping again.

“If you’re not a ghost, what are you?”

The young renegade takes a quick step back and to the side now that Alex is close enough he could touch him because that was a disaster last time. When he’s safely out of reach again, he pushes his hands into the pockets of his jacket, suddenly cold even though the air temperature hasn’t changed at all. He doesn’t know what possesses him to speak, doesn’t even realize he’s going to say anything until he already has.

“I think I’m you.”

Alex tilts his head again, straining to see into the shadows he’s barely standing outside of because he could _swear_ he heard someone say something. After another look around the empty room, he chuckles to himself and reaches up to rub his eyes. _Jack is right_ , he thinks, _it’s all in my head_. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, then shakes his head to clear it.

“If you’re not gonna answer, I guess I’m gonna go get dinner,” he says, making himself laugh at the absurdity of talking to thin air in an empty venue. “Feel free to come with if you’re hungry.”

With that, he turns and walks away, his boots scuffing on the concrete floor as he goes. A moment later he disappears through the same door everyone else has, the jarring clang of metal on metal ringing in the young renegade’s ears as the world starts to dissolve around him. He feels like he’s falling in slow motion for once, the glimpses into Alex’s life more concrete. Dinner tonight, Alex with another group of people he’s supposed to know but doesn’t, then another, time spent with family and the girl. 

It’s a whirlwind of shows and buses and airplanes and growing crowds and through it all, Alex withdraws slowly from the chaos into himself, a facade of polite smiles and superficial words with an underlying weariness that only those closest to him even seem to register. Just before the gray blur of time takes over, the young renegade sees Alex standing in the middle of yet another group of people clamoring for his attention but still somehow looking completely, miserably alone.

**********

“You’ve changed.”

The young renegade hears the girl’s voice before he’s even made it fully into the moment. She doesn’t sound angry or upset, only resigned. It only takes a scant moment longer before the young renegade registers his surroundings: the living room of the house Alex shares with _the_ girl. The only light in the room is from the glow of a lamp in the corner and a lit candle on the coffee table. Alex and the girl are curled up on the couch, his chest pressed to her back and his arm thrown over her.

“I know. I didn’t mean to.”

The words earn Alex a soft laugh as she threads her fingers through his. They both fall silent and the quiet that descends has a melancholy feel to it - not heavy exactly, but thick - like they’re both holding onto words they want to say. The girl closes her eyes when Alex pulls her closer against him.

“I miss the boy I fell in love with. I miss _my_ Alex.”

Alex smiles wistfully. He can’t bring himself to admit that he misses that boy, too. Saying it out loud would make it too real, too true, too irreversible. Instead of answering her words, he kisses her shoulder and threads their fingers more tightly together. It’s quiet again as they both get lost in their thoughts, the young renegade watching from the corner of the room with an ache growing in his chest by the second even though he’s not sure exactly why.

“I think I’m going to bed,” the girl says finally. She turns on the couch to face Alex, kissing his forehead and smiling. “You should get some sleep, too.”

“I’ll be there soon, promise,” Alex answers, pulling her in for a goodnight kiss.

When she’s gone, he sighs and turns over on his back, staring at the ceiling. The ache in the young renegade’s chest sharpens and he finds himself inexplicably drawn to move closer. Familiarity resounds with every beat of his heart and he wonders how he didn’t realize the last time he was in this moment just how important it was. 

Alex lets his thoughts drift, the girl’s words putting a knot in his stomach. He knows he’s changed, of course, how could he not have when he went from being a teenager with ten friends to being someone people recognize on the street because of the Young Renegades? Everyone he knew in high school wants his attention whenever he comes home, wants to say they knew him back when. They all know him and he feels like he doesn’t know any of them. He’s not even sure he knows _himself_ anymore.

And then there’s this side of his life: his life with the girl of his dreams in a nice house in the city that he loves most. It’s.. well, nice. He’s not _unhappy_ with it, but he can’t help wondering if there’s more to life than this. More than the rat race and a white picket fence and a perfect little life with a perfect little wife. Something inside him chafes at the idea of spending the rest of his life in this kind of mundane domesticity when there’s so much more out there to explore that he hasn’t even gotten to see yet, much less experience.

The young renegade feels like he’s trapped in the overwhelming rush of Alex’s yearning, a feeling so familiar it squeezes the air right out of his lungs. It’s always been there he realizes now, an undercurrent of wanderlust and curiosity that come together in a yearning to explore everything the world has to offer, to reach further and further until he feels like he’s seen everything that’s possible for him and done everything he can ever dream to do. This, more than anything, is who Alex is. Who _he_ is.

When the young renegade accidentally bumps the coffee table with his knee, the candle’s flame flickers and shivers, the glass jar rattling on the wood just enough to pull Alex from his musing. He sits up, goosebumps coming up on his arms as he finally notices the young renegade’s presence. It’s been at least a year since those few minutes in an empty venue right here in Baltimore when he was so. damn. sure. he was nearly close enough to touch.. whatever it is. 

He looks around the room, his gaze traveling slowly, looking for any hint of something out of place. The young renegade stands unmoving just a few feet away, watching Alex intently, _willing_ Alex to see him. But soon the feeling that gave Alex goosebumps has faded and he decides he’s definitely alone after all, wondering idly why he ever thought there might be anyone else here. He can’t shake the lingering feeling of someone watching, though, even when he finally blows out the candle and gets to his feet.

With one last look around the room, he turns off the lamp and takes off up the stairs to join the girl in bed, leaving the young renegade standing by himself in a room that suddenly feels as big and empty as the venue did all those months ago. The ache in his chest subsiding slowly even as he slips seamlessly into the stream of time that he shares with Alex, being pulled along by the current to the next moment in a lifetime of moments, weary from the moments he only witnesses from afar as much as from the ones he’s present for.


	7. Drugs And Candy (2012)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex finds the tables turned and doesn't like it very much. Maybe it's enough to make him do a little soul-searching.

The first thing the young renegade notices is the heat. It radiates up from the asphalt under his feet and beats down from the sky. The air around him is hot, too. It’s stale and unmoving though somehow there’s still sand in it as though he just missed a dust devil. People move around him in the cramped parking lot as though he’s not even there, sidestepping and flowing around him like a river moves around a rock. The exhaust of buses and smell of fried food fill his lungs, ragged palm trees jut up from the ground outside the chain link fence surrounding the whirlwind of action he’s found himself in.

It takes a full minute for him to process the sheer amount of chaos he’s standing in the middle of and another for him to gather his swirling thoughts enough to move. As he starts to walk toward the gap between two buildings, he looks at the lanyards of those passing by him in the opposite direction without even registering his presence. Warped. In the desert. Almost certainly Las Vegas. His heart sinks and he picks up his pace, slipping between the two buildings as though he’s being drawn by a magnet. He’s halfway down the cramped alleyway before he hears their voices, not loud but strained.

“I’m only saying you could have called.”

“Maybe I was busy,” Alex replies sharply. “I didn’t realize I had to call you every time I breathe now.”

The young renegade rounds the corner at the back of the buildings and sees them standing under a canopy. It’s deserted back here, nobody but Alex and a girl in sight. The girl’s hands are on her hips and she shows no signs of backing down from the argument, staring Alex down as he crosses his arms over his chest and glares down at her. She’s beautiful, petite with dark hair and wide eyes, a singer in another summer circuit band Alex met by chance and felt instantly at home with.

“Why are you being such a prick?” the girl asks. “All I said was that I missed you last night. I thought since we actually weren’t driving all night for once we were gonna spend some time together.”

Alex is silent.

“Were you with another girl?”

“That’s a stupid question,” he answers angrily. “Of _course_ I wasn’t.”

The girl looks close to tears as Alex looks away, crossing his arms more tightly over his chest, leaving her watching helplessly. The young renegade makes his way closer slowly, only vaguely registering that he doesn’t cast a shadow. He stops when he’s at the edge of the canopy, the sinking feeling in his chest stronger now that he’s so close. Alex looks his way, the angry pull of his brow giving way for a second as he searches in vain for the source of the feeling of being watched. It doesn’t take long before he turns his attention back to the girl.

“It wasn’t a stupid question. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You know,” the girl says, her voice tight with frustration and the emotions she’s trying to keep at bay, “if you want to break up, you should just tell me.”

Alex sighs and looks away from her again, turning his attention back to where the young renegade is standing. He feels like he can _almost_ make something out.. a shimmer where there shouldn’t be one. He quickly decides that it’s just a mirage, the heat coming off the pavement, but he still doesn’t look at the girl when he starts to speak again.

“I don’t know what I want,” he says. After a pause he finally meets her eyes again. “I thought I wanted.. “ 

He gestures vaguely to the space between them. He doesn’t know how to explain it without being a _complete_ asshole. How do you tell someone “I thought I wanted you but apparently I just wanted to see if there was something better than what I had”? 

“You thought you wanted _what_ , Alex?”

Anger has crept into the girl’s voice as she takes a step closer to Alex, her face a barely disguised mix of ire and hurt.

“Me? Am I what you thought you wanted? This? Us?”

Alex drops his arms in exasperation. He should’ve known he’d never get away with being that vague. Not with her. The tight feeling in his chest is uncomfortable, it makes him want to squirm, want to turn away, want to _run_ away. He’s angry with her for putting him on the spot but mostly with himself for getting into this position in the first place. When the girl takes another step closer, the hurt in her eyes giving way to fury, Alex takes a step backward. 

The young renegade’s stomach is knotted and his lungs feel too big for his chest when the familiarity of the conversation overtakes him. One of the worst conversations of his life, one where he stood tongue-tied and angry, wishing he could walk away without another word but knowing that he owes the girl _something_ at this point. Alex isn’t looking at her again, doesn’t even notice when she starts to cry. Even in the overwhelming heat, the young renegade shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket and pulls it tighter around himself, a cold chill shivering down his spine.

“I don’t know what I want,” Alex repeats flatly, still not looking at the girl. “I think I need some space.”

The girl flinches at his words, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, trying to steady herself for what’s next. She nods slowly, the realization that this is over dawning on her as the young renegade watches. Alex keeps his gaze fixed on the horizon he can see between the gap in two buses. 

“Oh, you can have all the space you want.”

Her voice is remarkably calm and steady, in no way matching the flood of conflicting emotions on her face. She doesn’t give Alex time to respond and he still doesn’t look at her as she walks away, quietly crumbling as soon as her back is turned to him. Seeing her fall apart while Alex stares stonily into the distance makes the young renegade furious. He wants to scream or throw something at Alex because none of this is right, it’s fucked up and callous and the worst part is, he knows he did exactly the same thing. He knows deep down that he _knew_ just like Alex does, that he’d hurt the girl deeply but he couldn’t bring himself to admit that he was wrong so instead he let her suffer.

He couldn’t say whether the tears that fill his eyes are anger or remorse but god, the sight in front of him makes his heart ache in a way he never could have imagined. Seeing Alex, seeing _himself_ turn into.. this.. is too much to bear. He closes his eyes, willing the tide of time to pull him under, to take him anywhere but this place right now.

Much to his surprise, it does.

**********

It’s only a few hours later when he finds himself dumped back out into the world. He’s standing in a bedroom of a hotel suite, the air frigid compared to where he was last and filled with drunken yelling and laughter coming from the next room. Alex is stretched out on the bed, his ankles crossed and his hands behind his head. He doesn’t even seem to notice the ruckus around him. The young renegade is still angry with Alex, his chest still filled with the desire to scream at the man on the bed until he has no choice but to hear. He forces himself to take deep breaths and settles into the shadows instead.

“Hey, man, you okay?”

Zack is suddenly standing in the doorway. When Alex doesn’t immediately answer, he leans against the frame and watches, waiting for an answer.

“Mm.. “ Alex’s hum is distracted and noncommittal. He follows it up with, “No, actually I’m a piece of shit.”

The young renegade can tell he was going for a joking tone, trying for self-deprecating humor like he always does in moments like these. He fails miserably, though. The sadness in his voice gives him away.

“What’s up?”

With the question, Zack enters the room fully and closes the door behind him, blocking out most of the noise from the party still raging in the rest of the suite. He takes a seat in a chair across from the bed, looking content to wait here all night if he has to. He doesn’t have to, it doesn’t take too long at all before Alex lets out a deep sigh.

“I fucked everything up. Again. Like I always do. I don’t know _what’s_ wrong with me. I always think I know what I want but then when I get it, it’s never good enough. I don’t know how to be happy with..” 

He trails off mid-sentence, trying to figure out the word he’s looking for. With a bitter laugh, he adds:

“Maybe I just don’t know how to be happy.”

Zack listens in thoughtful silence and waits to see if Alex has anything more to say. When half a minute has passed and he hasn’t said anything else, Zack finally answers. He chooses his words with care just as he always does.

“Can you fix it? Or, more importantly, do you _want_ to fix it?”

Alex sighs and closes his eyes. He’s been lying here wondering the same thing for two hours and he still doesn’t know the answer to either question. As the young renegade and Zack look on, Alex pulls his hands from behind his head and rubs his face slow and hard. He takes his time, mulling over Zack’s words. Somehow hearing them from the outside makes it easier to find the answer.

“No,” he says after a while. “Not this, not with her.”

The young renegade edges out of the shadows, a little nearer the bed. He knows that Alex is talking about _the_ girl now, knows he’s been lying here thinking about whether he should call her and try to mend _that_ relationship instead, wondering if it’s even worth trying or if she’d just laugh at him and hang up. He’s pretty sure that would crush him right now.

“Then call her,” the young renegade says.

For the first time, Alex moves, turning his head to look at the shadows where the young renegade has been standing. He’s _sure_ he heard a voice this time, there’s no mistaking it. Only.. it sounded like him, like the voice in his head that’s always pushing him to call that. specific. girl.

“Maybe you should call her.”

The quiet words from Zack startle Alex a little, make him jump and look quickly back at him instead of the wall on the opposite side of the room. It’s almost like he forgot anyone else was in the room. He chuckles a little self-consciously and rubs his face again. _God,_ he thinks, _I must be even more tired than I thought. Must have completely missed the first time Zack said it._

“I don’t know,” he says out loud. “One of these days I’m gonna call and she’s just not gonna answer.”

“Keep calling her ’til that happens,” Zack answers matter-of-factly.

Alex starts to open his mouth to argue but then he realizes it makes perfect sense, so he closes his mouth again. He goes back to staring at the ceiling, twisting his hair around his finger as he weighs the pros and cons of doing it.

“We have like three days in a row off next week, you could fly back home and see her.”

Zack is right and it makes the decision so much easier. Alex’s heart flutters in his chest like a million butterflies at the thought of hearing her voice. He’s missed it so much the last few days. Missed _her_ so much. This is the relationship he wants to fix, if it’s even possible. His mind is made up to try within seconds.

“Yeah, I think I’ll call her in a bit.”

His gaze drifts back to where the young renegade still stands, just at the edge of the shadows. He’d swear he sees a chunk of shadow that’s somehow darker than the rest and the thought crosses his mind to ask Zack if he sees it too. He quickly discards that, however; there’s no point in making his band think he’s lost his fucking mind.

The young renegade finally feels like he can breathe again for the first time since the conversation he witnessed earlier today. His anger has slowly started to subside and he’s certain he can feel the same kind of tired relief in Alex right now, the kind that settles in your bones and makes you weary to the core.

Alex and Zack’s conversation drifts from the topic at hand to something tour related, nothing but the usual shop talk. With a nervous buzz in the pit of his stomach, the young renegade decides to see if he can repeat his afternoon success with pushing _himself_ into the stream of time. Putting every bit of concentration he can muster into it, he closes his eyes and _wills_ the gray haze to take him again. He can feel the shifting tide, feel the tug of it at his clothes, at the edges of himself. Finally, his hands trembling with the mental effort he’s exerting, he feels himself being pulled away. 

Just before he’s fully engulfed, he hears Alex ask: “Did you see that?”


	8. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do you ever wonder where the young renegade goes when he's not with Alex?

The movement of time slows to a crawl but instead of dropping into the world Alex inhabits, the young renegade finds himself standing in the middle of the haze. A dense fog surrounds him and there’s a chill in the air and a silence so loud it makes his ears ring. With a shiver he pulls his coat tight around him, squinting as he looks around, trying to make out anything in the vast grayness. There’s nothing, though. It’s only gray light and thick fog as far as he can see.

He takes a tentative step, the ground beneath his feet shifting under his weight, and when he looks down he sees.. nothing. There’s no ground there, no floor that he can see. It looks exactly the same beneath him as it does if he looks up or to his left. He takes another step, trembling with a fear that squeezes at his chest like a vise and prickles at the back of his neck. He’s walking on nothing, but walking nonetheless. A few more short steps later he hears a static pop, jarring and loud in the profound silence.

In an instant, the cold gray haze gives way to a warm static and the young renegade’s mind is flooded with snippets of the past. Alex’s childhood and his teenage years, the first years of the band and the most recent days. Every image, every snippet, every word seems to appear and disappear in the same instant in no particular order. 

The chaotic waves crashing around and through him send the young renegade staggering backward a few steps before he rights himself again. When the deluge stops and he’s trying to catch his breath, struggling to wrap his mind around the entirety of Alex’s life up to now and make sense of what belongs where, one more moment in time flashes through his mind.

It’s still Alex, but in the far off future. A grown man in place of the lanky teenager and young adult whose life the young renegade has been reliving. The memory is foreign, so unfamiliar in every way that it makes the young renegade’s fear so intense that he can’t breathe at all. His mind is filled with the vision of Alex hunched over a notebook on a messy desk, seeing through Alex’s eyes as the man draws a fly on the paper next to some bits and pieces of lyrics.

He can _feel_ the longing that’s tight in Alex’s chest, feel the discomfort of suddenly doubting his place in the world as what he’s always thought it was. But more than that, he can feel the overwhelming need to know the truth in the pit of Alex’s stomach as he stares intently at the fly on the paper. A wish so strong and a desire so deep that the young renegade sees the messily scribbled fly’s wing shift just the tiniest bit, an almost imperceptible movement that Alex doesn’t seem to notice at all.

With that, the vision is gone and the young renegade finds himself in gray haze and silence again, reeling with confusion over what he’s just seen and what it could mean. He doesn’t know how far into Alex’s future he’s seen and has no context for anything he’s witnessed and the weight of not knowing, of the lack of familiarity of anything about the moment makes him dizzy and unsteady on his feet.

Dread fills his body making his limbs feel heavy and his head ache with its heaviness. Is this a dream? Some kind of quasi-nightmare wrapped up in a veneer of normality? The young renegade struggles to remember anything that might help him understand where he actually is or how he got here. He can remember Alex’s childhood now - _his_ childhood - but those memories are fleeting, wisps of smoke in a breeze that curl and waver and elude his attempts to hold onto them. 

The first concrete memory he has is standing in Alex’s childhood home, looking down at himself quizzically, trying to piece together any hint of how he might’ve gotten where he is. The next memory is the voices, Alex’s voice and the woman’s from the next room; it’s the tenseness in the air and the sadness radiating from the conversation as the young renegade moves toward the door.

 _This must be a dream_ , he thinks to himself. _Nothing else makes sense_.

And yet.. it doesn’t feel like a dream. Every moment he drops into, every event he witnesses feels too real for this to be a dream. No one’s dreams could possibly be this vivid. Does that make this another reality? A world parallel to Alex’s where he and the young renegade share experiences and memories but not the same physical form? Is he simply a figment of Alex’s mind? A shadow that falls into the space between Alex’s consciousness and the rest of the world? The sudden realization that he doesn’t know where he is or how he got here, doesn’t even know who he is for sure anymore, shakes him to his core.

 _I have to be real,_ the young renegade thinks desperately. _But where am I?_

Before he can fall any further down the mental rabbit hole the ground gives way beneath his feet and he finds himself falling through time again, moments and memories flying past him so fast he can barely get glimpses of most of them before they’re gone again. One constant he sees throughout is Alex with the girl. Sometimes they’re arguing and sometimes they’re sharing tender stolen moments amid the chaos and sometimes they’re simply there, existing together. 

Beneath every memory of her and every memory of a girl that isn’t her, the young renegade can feel the intensity of Alex’s yearning. And then the passing of moments becomes too rapid for him to keep up, every second blurring into the one before it and the one just after until he can’t make out anything at all. There’s nothing but gray haze that clouds the young renegade’s mind. 


	9. Vampire Shift (2013)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex takes opportunities where he can find them and the young renegade discovers new and exciting consequences to his past impulsiveness.

The lights and noise are overwhelming. A dizzying whirlwind of people sweeps the young renegade up and carries him along the sidewalk like a leaf on a river as soon as he finds his feet. Everywhere he looks he sees flashing neon signs and huge billboards, but no Alex. He looks around desperately for the man he knows he’s supposed to find. People still part around him like he’s not even there, but there are so many of them that he’s pulled along by their tide anyway. He tries to fight against it to no avail as they carry him through the doors into a massive hotel casino.

Once he’s inside the crowd disperses, leaving him standing alone at the edge of the entryway to a darkened bar. As the young renegade takes a moment to catch his breath, an uneasy feeling curls in the pit of his stomach like a stone. He feels like something just happened - something strange that knocked his whole world off balance - but he can’t remember what it was. There’s only a memory of the familiar feeling of falling, a jarring stop, and falling again.

He finally hears Alex’s low chuckle coming from inside the bar and tries to push away the raw feeling in his chest and the knot in his stomach as he enters the cavernous room and follows the sound of Alex’s voice. When he brushes past a waiter, the man does a double take even as he’s stepping around the young renegade. The confusion on his face says that he thinks he saw something but then it wasn’t actually there.

The encounter does nothing to settle the young renegade’s nerves as he approaches the dimly lit booth tucked in the back corner of the bar where Alex is sitting. He stops when he’s only a few feet away and settles into the edge of the shadows. Alex is with a girl, sitting a little too close and giving her his full attention, his smiles so charming between sips from his glass of whiskey. She’s blonde and curvy and chewing on the straw of her daiquiri between drinks, her smiles just as charming as his.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

Alex’s voice is cajoling though his casual posture says that he’s happy to move on to try with someone else if she’s really not interested. He bites his lip and looks at her, waiting for her answer.

“I don’t know,” the girl says after a beat. She’s smiling, looking up at Alex through her lashes. “What if you’re a serial killer?”

“Do I _look_ like a serial killer?”

They both laugh and the girl subtly moves a bit closer to Alex, taking a long drink from her daiquiri while she leaves him hanging, waiting for another answer. She bites down on her straw again and looks back up at him.

“Does _anyone_ look like a serial killer?” she asks, her tone playful.

“Sure they do!” 

Alex looks up from the table. He takes a drink of his whiskey as he surveys the mostly empty bar, his gaze stopping when it passes over the young renegade before he blinks and keeps looking. He finally finds someone sitting on the other side of the room, an older man with a sour look and disheveled shirt. 

“That guy there,” he says, gesturing to the man before he turns his attention back to the girl, smiling triumphantly. “He definitely looks like one.”

It makes the girl laugh again, her blue eyes sparkling when she meets Alex’s eyes. He leans in close to the girl, his heartbeat quick with the thrill of the chase and his voice dropping so low that the young renegade can’t hear what he’s saying. He doesn’t need to hear it to know what Alex is telling her. Everything about this musty room and this cramped booth and this beautiful girl is painfully familiar. 

The uneasiness that’s twisting up his insides pulls a little tighter and he frowns. He _hates_ this. He hated it when he did it and he hates watching Alex do it even more. He can feel the familiar longing in Alex, feel the emptiness he’s trying to fill with this girl. She’s just another face in a long line of faces that will mean nothing to him in the morning. He’s chasing the thrill that comes with getting her into his bed and the security of knowing he won’t have to be alone with his thoughts before he goes to sleep, nothing more.

“Alex!” the girl’s exclamation is accompanied by a giggle as Alex sits back up straighter, looking pleased with himself. Her cheeks are flushed pink and she’s biting her lip, still not quite finished sizing Alex up.

“Don’t do this,” the young renegade says softly.

Alex looks up as soon as the words are out of the young renegade’s mouth, his eyes narrowing as he looks around the room again, suddenly keenly aware of the feeling he’s being watched. It prickles at the back of his neck and makes his skin buzz. He’s _sure_ he heard someone speak but there doesn’t seem to be anyone nearer than the definitely-a-serial-killer across the room. His gaze passes over the young renegade, lingering there, feeling like there’s something he should be seeing.

“ _Please_.”

The young renegade’s voice is still soft and he _knows_ it’s not going to do any good but he has to try anyway. He can’t just watch Alex making this mistake - the kind of mistake that could easily lose him _the_ girl forever - and not say something. Alex looks right at him, frowning just like the waiter did. He fucking knows there has to be something there at the edge of the shadows but he still can’t figure out what it could possibly be.

“Alright, I’ll go with you,” the girl says, pulling Alex’s attention away from the shadow that apparently isn’t even there. He smiles down at her and picks up his glass to finish his whiskey as she adds with the faintest southern drawl, “But, you better not be a serial killer.”

“I promise!” Alex answers with a laugh. He draws a cross over his chest with a fingertip, “Cross my heart.”

An unfamiliar sullenness settles over the young renegade as he watches Alex lean in close again to whisper in the girl’s ear while she finishes off her daiquiri. He hasn’t liked a lot of the moments in Alex’s life he’s dropped into but there’s something about this one that makes it worse, that makes him want to yell until Alex hears him or take his chances with putting himself in Alex’s path again. He does neither, though, when Alex stands up and offers the girl her hand to pull her to her feet with him.

While she gathers her jacket and purse, Alex pulls his phone from his pocket. An uncomfortable look flits across his face as he reads the notification on his screen. The young renegade knows it’s a text from _the_ girl and that it’ll go unanswered tonight and he hates that, too.

Alex glances the young renegade’s way one last time as he puts his arm around the girl’s shoulders and leads her toward the exit. Before they’re even out of the bar, he’s leaning down close and whispering to her again, the sound of her soft laughter ringing through the air as they disappear into a small crowd of people waiting for the elevators.

The young renegade turns to leave as well, brushing past the same waiter as earlier. This time the man doesn’t seem to notice his presence at all. Just before he steps out of the bar and into the hotel lobby, the familiar grayness of the other side of his life wraps around him and pulls him in. For the first time, he’s scared to go though he still doesn’t know why. He closes his eyes as he’s pulled away from the world, trying not to see the rest of tonight. It doesn’t help. 

The memory of Alex’s time with the girl - _his_ time with her - is as sharp in his mind as every other memory he’s discovered and relived. Soon he’s falling fast enough that everything becomes a blur, but the awful feeling that’s been pulling at him since he last landed doesn’t ease at all.

**********

There’s a sharp chill in the wind that hits the young renegade when the gray haze releases him. He’s on a hotel balcony with Alex, who’s sprawled in an uncomfortable looking chair, his legs stretched out in front of him and his head tilted up as he tries to make out stars through the layers of light pollution. Or stop his world from spinning so much. It could be either.

He never takes his eyes off the sky, but he shifts just a little almost as soon as the young renegade is dropped into his world, a sudden alertness in his posture that wasn’t there before. He takes a swallow of beer and sighs when his phone vibrates on the glass-topped table next to him but he doesn’t pick it up. It buzzes again just a few seconds later and again a few seconds after that. Alex sighs and finishes his bottle of beer with a couple of gulps; his phone buzzes again.

“Oh, for fuck’s.. “ he growls as he finally picks it up to look at the texts. 

In the harsh light of the phone’s screen Alex looks weary. He looks like he’s barely slept in days and like he could sleep _for_ days if given half a chance. After he scrolls through a long string of texts, he puts his phone back on the table, picks up an unopened bottle of beer, and opens it. His phone starts to vibrate again as soon as he takes a drink, but he ignores it until he’s finished off half the bottle. 

When he picks it up again, he looks a lot more irritated, putting his beer down on the table as he scrolls through the new barrage of texts and fires off one in return. He stops to think for a second then sends a second text, another moment’s thought results in another text. When he’s finished, he shoves it in his pocket with another sigh.

“I know you’re there.”

Alex’s words are nonchalant, but the young renegade can see the slight tremble in his hand when he reaches for his beer again. A heavy silence falls over the balcony, chillier than the wind that already has the young renegade shivering. He’s holding his breath, trying to flatten himself against the wall out of Alex’s sight even though he’s _fairly_ sure Alex can’t actually _see_ him. An intense wave of anxiety grips him, heightening his every sense.

When Alex has drained his second bottle, he finally stands up. He’s drunk enough that he sways a little as soon as he’s upright, but quickly rebalances himself as he’s looking around the balcony. It only takes a second for him to settle on a spot near the young renegade and start to move that direction.

“Who are you?” Alex asks quietly. “Or.. what..?”

The young renegade’s heart thumps painfully against his breastbone, the anxiety squeezing the air right out of his lungs and leaving him lightheaded. The memory of this moment rushes over him. The fear of standing on this balcony and feeling like there was someone there with him, someone he could almost touch, a presence that he couldn’t name.

“I think I’m you,” he finally whispers, just like he did in a big empty venue a year ago. He hesitates, his voice tight when he adds, “But, I don’t know _what_ I am.”

Alex tilts his head and moves a step closer in the soft light and stark shadows that fall on the concrete from his hotel room. His steps are hesitant, a few seconds between each one, like he’s drawn to where the young renegade is but also dreading getting any closer. The young renegade starts to inch toward the railing where it’s darker and Alex’s path doesn’t change.

“Come on,” he says, his voice as unsteady as his steps. “Where are you?”

He reaches out a tentative hand, his fingers only finding the cold metal of the building. He takes one more step and drags his fingertips across the metal in the young renegade’s direction. The back of his hand comes so close to the young renegade that Alex feels the _pressure_ of his presence and only a fraction of a second later, a static shock that’s big enough to make him gasp and jerk his hand away with a surprised:

“What the hell was that?”

The young renegade feels the pressure of time crashing in on him as the real world starts to retreat from his vision. He stays stuck right there between Alex’s world and the silent gray of his own for what feels like an eternity though it couldn’t possibly be more than a few seconds. In the end, it’s the ringing of Alex’s phone that breaks the spell and the young renegade finally slips into the space between moments, a relief so strong washing over him that it makes him giddy. 

Just before he’s completely shifted away, he hear’s Alex answer the phone with an exasperated, “ _Not_ really a good time.”


End file.
